Dungeon Creation (2)
After spending such an enjoyable time with Arthur, I came to a realization: the guy apparently doesn't skip out on his training.
And that wasn't all. He was growing at a far steeper pace than I had originally predicted.
Using aura already — and the second year hasn't even begun!
Not only that, he wasn't at the level of merely getting a feel for it. He had become skilled enough to wield it competently in actual combat!
Fine, sure, I taught him the fastest possible path to growth, but isn't this a little too fast even so?
I knew Arthur was a genius, but I had no idea his talent ran this deep.
If my Divinity rank hadn't risen, I might have gotten thoroughly trounced back there.
'He's really been working hard, hasn't he. The Third Prince.'
"I can't believe the Pitiable Prince has gotten this strong. You must have worked yourself to the bone, hm hm. Of course, that still doesn't change the fact that you're a loser who got schooled by a girl two heads shorter than you."
Arthur, sprawled across the floor, offered no reply to my words.
No response at all. He honestly looked like a corpse. As I wondered which spot I'd hit too hard while studying his disturbingly lifeless form, Frey shuffled over and gently rolled him onto his back.
"The Third Prince did nothing wrong. It's Lucy who's too strong."
"Lady Kent speaks the truth, Your Highness. What Your Highness displayed was a level far beyond his years."
"Spare me the useless comfort and just leave me be. It will take some time before the wound to my heart heals."
Ah, I see. So it wasn't anything serious — he'd simply thrown everything he had at me and still lost, and that's what stung.
What a relief. I was worried I'd fumbled my strength control and turned him into a genuinely pitiful prince.
'The two of them speak the truth...'
"That's right. For a loser, the Pitiable Prince was quite strong indeed. Do you have any idea how terrifying it was, watching you flail about trying to wound a poor little girl's face? It was so grotesque I nearly screamed."
"...Lucy Aln. I find it strange enough that the loser must hear this, but might I ask you to kindly shut your mouth?"
At the trembling fury in Arthur's voice, I clamped my lips shut in haste. I briefly considered adding an apology, but there was no telling what fresh horror would come out instead.
Hmm. No matter how I looked at it, staying here any longer promised nothing good.
I'd confirmed that far from slacking on his training, Arthur had actually worked harder than I'd asked — so perhaps I'd make a quiet escape.
But wait, hold on. If Arthur has nothing to feel guilty about around me, why did he bolt the moment he laid eyes on my face yesterday? I don't get it.
«Are you truly tilting your head in genuine puzzlement?»
'I am, actually?'
«...You truly do not understand the human heart. Is it not obvious?»
'Don't tell me you think Arthur ran away because he was stunned by my new look? As if! The Third Prince isn't some pervert like the Face-Connoisseur Fox.'
Think about it rationally — who could possibly harbor strange feelings looking at a scrappy little shrimp like me?
The only ones who would are perverts like the Face-Connoisseur Fox, the Apostle of the Art Sect, and that scrubby pedo Chief God.
The Arthur I know is a perfectly normal person with sane thought processes, nothing like those degenerates.
'Oh! Could it be that old saying — that to a pervert's eyes, everything looks like a pervert?! And here I trusted you of all people, Grandpa!'
«What slander is this now! What exactly do you take yourself for!»
I let Grandpa's sputtering wash over me as I pondered why Arthur had fled, but no satisfying answer came.
It felt like he was hiding something from me, but I couldn't imagine what. He'd seemed perfectly fine when we met again today, so it probably wasn't anything serious. I'd let it slide for now.
«Are you even listening?! Of late you show your elder not one shred of respect!»
Had all the teasing lately — this and that — finally piled up until it burst?
Grandpa's lecture continued all the way until I arrived at the dungeon studies professor's office.
Fine, I'll admit it. I have been needling him constantly these days. That's an undeniable fact.
But come on! What am I supposed to do when his reactions to my teasing are just too entertaining?
Watching someone so normally dignified raise his voice and blow up at me puts a smile on my face whether I want one or not.
If you don't want to be teased, stop making such funny faces!
Though I was starting to understand why the old Lucy went around provoking people...
No. This is not the same thing. She wasn't teasing — she was tormenting and persecuting others.
I must not empathize with the old Lucy's heart.
«Understood? I can accept that you regard me with familiarity, but I would ask that you show at least the barest modicum of respect.»
'As if I could ever fail to respect you, Grandpa? I'm always thinking, deep in my heart, how amazing you are!'
«...Is that so?»
'Of course! I was there when Grandpa worked miracles against the evil god! I remember it even now! The sight of the sun rising inside that dark cavern!'
«Ahem. 'Twas nothing, truly. Mere child's play compared to what I accomplished in my prime.»
'Really?! That's our Grandpa! The legendary Holy Knight Ruel indeed!'
«Think you flattery so transparent will quell my wrath?»
Grandpa, you say that, but your voice is melting like pudding. How dishonest, when you're so obviously thrilled that your mischievous granddaughter is complimenting you.
'This is flattery, yes — but flattery filled with sincere heart! Grandpa!'
«If it is flattery, then it is flattery. What in the world is 'sincere flattery' meant to be?»
'It means my respect is the real deal!'
«...Honestly. I cannot win against you in words.»
Having successfully soothed Grandpa's feelings, I resolved to maintain a proper balance of teasing and compliments going forward as I stepped into the dungeon studies professor's office.
"Lady Aln."
Had she not been sleeping properly lately? Dark, heavy circles were etched beneath her eyes.
"I was just waiting for you. Have you already heard from Professor Carl?"
'Yes, well, about that...'
"She did. That pathetic loser of a professor admitted that with his own moronic brain, he's unfit to evaluate me."
The dungeon studies professor gritted her teeth at the words filtered through my Mesugaki skill, but I paid her no mind.
I'd given up on winning that person's favor a long time ago.
"Th... then have you made your decision?"
'Yep. I'm going to build a dungeon.'
"That's right — I'm going to show someone whose very professorship I question what a proper dungeon looks like. Ha. Truly. I'm far too kind for my own good."
Every time my voice slipped out, the dungeon studies professor's face flushed crimson.
Was she going to collapse from rising blood pressure at this rate?
I was terrified that something like 'has raised blood pressure enough to kill' might get appended to the infamy of the name Lucy Aln.
"...Assistant Professor."
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Explain the details to her, dear."
The poor graduate student caught between the dungeon studies professor and me crept forward while wiping away cold sweat, then abruptly bowed deep at the waist.
"U-um! Lady Aln! Would you grant this pathetic piece of trash the honor of explaining to you?"
Such excessive groveling was a bit much, but I wasn't especially fazed.
After all, this was hardly a one-day affair.
Back when I'd turned the Commoner Dormitory upside down, I had ordered Luka to deal with the ringleaders of the incident appropriately.
Those idiots, left to linger, might have gone and done something incomprehensibly stupid.
Luka carried out my orders faithfully. He just carried them out a little... too faithfully.
I never expected the perpetrators of the incident to vanish from the Academy overnight.
Because of it, a bizarre rumor took root on campus: anger Lucy Aln and you will simply cease to exist!
In truth, all that had happened was that the troublemakers had been quietly expelled — but sensational rumors always spread faster than boring ones.
Thanks to that, ever since the incident, I had become an object of terror to the commoner students and staff alike.
Ugh, thinking about this makes me mad all over again.
It's nice that the punks who used to pick fights with me are gone, sure.
But people dropping face-first to the ground and begging for their lives the moment my sleeve brushes them is a bit excessive, don't you think!
Why should I become a trash human who torments people when I haven't done a single thing?!
Fine, I gave up on my reputation, but this is just going too faaaaar!
"Um, er... Lady Aln... W-was there something lacking in my explanation, p-perhaaaps?!"
The terrified voice of the assistant professor snapped me back to my senses, and at the sight of her — poised to slam her head straight into the floor the moment I exhaled — I bit my lip.
'I couldn't hear you. Could you explain it one more time?'
"Can't you speak properly? Clearly? No one can understand a word you're saying. Pathetic loser. Explain it again, properly this time."
"Y-yes ma'am! I'll do my be— hic! My very be— hic!"
"Sigh. Enough. Assistant Professor, go back to your work. I'll explain it myself."
Perhaps she couldn't bear to watch the assistant professor's teetering-on-tears state any longer, because the dungeon studies professor stepped forward — and the assistant professor's face visibly brightened.
Seriously, how far into the gutter has my reputation within the Academy fallen?!
What did I even do to warrant this level of terror? I haven't done anything!
Aaaagh! This is so unfair! I've stopped the evil god's resurrection twice — why am I being treated like this?!
Just as I was thinking it might actually feel less unjust if I had genuinely tormented someone, the dungeon studies professor spoke up.
"First, what you must understand, my lady, is that the final exam dungeon exists, above all, to test what was learned in class. Therefore, the dungeon's contents must include material covered within the exam scope. You were informed of this in advance, so I trust you're aware."
'You told me?'
"Did I say that? Really? Or did your foolish little brain just imagine it?"
"...I informed you quite clearly. Did you not hear?"
Oh. So that happened.
My apologies, Professor.
But during your dungeon studies lectures, I was meeting someone, you see.
What does it matter what the professor says? I already know all the content anyway — there's no reason to listen.
When I nodded with perfect confidence, the dungeon studies professor's mouth twitched violently.
"Then I shall explain once more. The scope of this exam is gimmick-type dungeons — content concerning the conquest of the various dungeons that cannot be overcome without using your head."
Straining to suppress her rising voice, the dungeon studies professor walked me through the many gimmicks covered in class and their solutions.
Maybe because this was first-year coursework, there were almost none of the truly fiendish kinds of gimmicks.
So I'm supposed to weave these gimmicks together into my dungeon design, then.
"There are a few additional conditions as well. The dungeon's size, its difficulty, a limit on capacity, and..."
The restrictions were pretty tight.
Well, creating a dungeon isn't free, after all. There would naturally have to be all sorts of realistic limitations.
As I quietly listened to the professor's explanation, I rummaged through the trove of knowledge stored in my head.
To create the ideal dungeon while using my allotted resources as efficiently as possible...
Hmmmm...
Deep in thought with my arms crossed, a single brilliant idea struck me.
If I could just make use of this gimmick, it would be the best option — but I wonder if it's even possible.
'Um, Professor, by any chance...'
"Hey. Just curious, but does this pathetic loser of an Academy actually have the capability to recreate something like this?"
I asked expecting a firm 'no' — but the answer that flowed from the professor's mouth was entirely different.
"It's not particularly difficult. How, exactly, did you intend to use that gimmick?"
...I can?
I can actually use this gimmick?!
Heheh.
Heheheheh.
Attention, all you Academy first-years.
Brace yourselves.
This rotten-water veteran is about to show you what a proper dungeon really is.